


all i ever do is think about us

by Joana789



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Drinking, F/F, Insight, Kinda, Post-Canon, Self-Discovery, Sexuality Issues, Vilde's POV, also vilde's a lesbian fight me on this, evak is very slight don't kill me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 08:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12128622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joana789/pseuds/Joana789
Summary: She likes the way Eva laughs and how her eyes glow when she’s interested in something, and how spontaneous she can be, how carefree. How soft her hair looks, and her clothes, and her smile, and just all of her. She’s made of curves and gentle lines, not at all pointy and sharp like boys are. Vilde wants to trail all those lines with her fingertips. Vilde wants to kiss her, like back then.





	all i ever do is think about us

**Author's Note:**

> watch me embarrass myself as i try to write a fic from vilde's pov

 

Vilde doesn’t believe in signs.

She used to, when she was younger. _Fate_ , she used to write in the margins of her notebooks in pretty cursive, with caution, in pink and golden ink. _Destiny_. It would bring someone to her one day, she believed. Fate would find the love for her, like a gift wrapped up in nice paper, and it would be easy and light and _perfect_. Fate would set the world in order again. It would all make sense, at last, and come together.

And it’s not like Vilde doesn’t like the concept of destiny anymore — she _loves_ it. She loves all the romantic comedies, and all the books, and she steals glances at the couples at school, kissing in the hallways, holding hands in the cafeteria. It’s nice. They’re happy. Fate exists. It brings people together, makes their eyes shine.

It just seemed to forget about Vilde, in a way.

Because those things happen somewhere next to her, outside. To others. To Isak and Even, to Sana, to Noora. Never to Vilde herself. There are no signs, for her. She thinks that maybe there will be some, when she gets better, thinner, prettier; when she becomes _more_. Maybe the fate is just waiting, now.

So when Eva comes to school one day and says, ”I broke up with Jonas,” Vilde thinks nothing of it. Now is not the time.

  
*

  
The first time she admits to herself she likes girls, Vilde is staring at herself in her bathroom mirror. She looks at her own fair hair, at her eyelashes coated with mascara and eyes that are never bright enough, and she thinks, _This is it._

She doesn’t say the words out loud because it’s terrifying — _I might like girls, I might prefer girls_ — but she lets the thought in. Lets it settle, for the very first time. It feels heavy but familiar, like it’s been swirling on the outskirts of her mind for a while now, waiting.

Vilde cries, then, but silently, because her mom is sleeping in the next room. And when her reflection becomes so blurry that she can’t see it anymore, she turns the tap on to drown out any other sounds than the water flowing, thinking that it’s funny, for a second. Crying in a bathroom, again. Crying in general. That’s something she seems to be doing a lot.

  
*

  
”Hey, Vilde,” Eva says, sits down next to Vilde on the bench outside of school before the lessons start. ”Are you alright?”

Vilde has been busy counting how many calories she’s already had today, and she’s been trying to remember if she left her mom’s meds on her bedside table like she should have. She gets lost, now.

”Yeah,” she says, and when she looks up, Eva looks a little sleepy and a little drowsy, but mostly just worried. Vilde wants to brush a lock of Eva’s hair away from her face but doesn’t. She smiles, instead. ”Why are you asking?”

”I don’t know,” Eva shrugs, opens her mouth to say something else, but then the bell rings, so they both get up, get going. And then she says, so quietly Vilde barely hears the words at all, ”You just looked sad for a second.”

  
*

  
She’s annoying, she knows that. Never says the right thing at the right time, and she’s awkward and rude sometimes, too straight-forward, too eager. Her voice is too high-pitched, her laugh is too loud. She’s nosy. Hard to put up with, to like, to love. She’s aware of that.

She looks at girls in the cafeteria sitting together in bigger or smaller groups, or standing together in the schoolyard before classes, or sneaks glances at them during lessons and wishes she could be like them. Wishes she could _be_ them. With a big house and expensive clothes and brand new makeup products. She thinks about not having to worry about bills, about the owner of the building knocking on the door of her apartment more and more often, about her mom’s medication. It would be nice, not to worry about that, just once.

But Vilde keeps it all going, keeps playing the game nobody but her knows about. She laughs too loudly at Chris’ jokes and talks in a way that makes Sana roll her eyes, and it’s okay. She has a place, amongst those girls, a place of her own.

It almost feels right.

  
*

  
Vilde has it all figured out. It’s what she does, between one class and the next, one moment and the other, because if fate forgot about her, then she will do all the work herself. Vilde starts planning out a russ in the first year, always does her homework, runs six times a week before school and only eats salads, or vegan meals, because the magazines say those are the healthiest ones. She's in control. She has it all planned. _This is how you become successful_ , she tells herself as she writes inspirational quotes on colorful paper and pins them above her bed. _That’s how it’s done._

She goes to parties and drinks and drinks and drinks until the world becomes softer around the edges, nicer, until she doesn’t feel like running away every time a boy kisses her or puts his hand up her skirt. She lets them do it. Her world works like that. And it doesn’t matter that the spark everyone keeps talking about is never there, it doesn’t matter it’s not there with William, or with other boys, or even with Magnus. It’s okay.

  
*

  
She still thinks about the time when Eva kissed her, sometimes. How sloppy it was, and how Eva was giggling into it, and how Vilde’s eyes were closed, but her world erupted into color, then. How she kissed Eva back, and she wanted — she _wanted_. For just one second.

It didn’t mean anything. It also meant everything.

  
*

  
Magnus still calls her sometimes, and talks to her at school, greets her with a hug every time they run into each other in the hallway. They still hang out, with others or just the two of them. Go to parties together. Magnus makes her laugh and she tells him things nobody else knows about and he says _Don’t worry about it_ every time she apologizes for something, and Vilde — Vilde loves him, she really, _really_ does.

She just doesn’t love him the way she should.

There are too many things she doesn’t do the way she should.

  
*

  
Vilde realizes she likes Eva when they’re sitting on the floor of Noora’s bedroom, watching a movie. There are two girls kissing in it, smiling at each other, after, their hands gentle but touching with purpose, the light casting soft shadows on their hair, cheeks, dips, and curves. The scene is quick, like a flash, and then the next one comes on and something else is happening, and Vilde still can’t look away.

 _Like_ is a good word, Vilde thinks. Small. Safe. She likes the way Eva laughs and how her eyes glow when she’s interested in something, and how spontaneous she can be, how carefree. How soft her hair looks, and her clothes, and her smile, and just all of her. She’s made of curves and gentle lines, not at all pointy and sharp like boys are. Vilde wants to trail all those lines with her fingertips. Vilde wants to kiss her, like back then.

She excuses herself for a minute with a well-practiced, tight smile and then stumbles out onto the hallway, closes the door behind her, presses her forehead to the cold wall and counts her breathes.

”You like her,” she mutters into the silence of the apartment. ”You _like_ her.”

It’s scary, but feels kind of good, too, and Vilde doesn’t know if she should laugh or cry or do nothing, so she just keeps breathing, in and out, in and out until she can open her eyes again.

It was a long time coming, she thinks.

  
*

  
Isak and Even are around, sometimes, and Vilde likes watching them, then. That’s what they are, to her, mostly — _Isak-and-Even_ , pronounced together like one name that belongs to two people. She sees them smiling at one another before classes, once, and then sees them kissing on a windowsill in some classroom, or holding hands when they pass her by in a hallway.

”Hi, boys,” she greets them, then. Even smiles at her brightly like he smiles at everyone, says, ”Hello, Vilde,” and Vilde then notices that Isak is smiling at her, too, just a little bit.

The thing is — she doesn’t know much about Even, apart from the rumors she heard and the smile he sends her way when they see each other. But she knows a lot about Isak. More, anyway. She knows that his parents aren’t together anymore and that he moved out of home during his second year and that he used to growl and frown at her whenever she came near.

She also knows that he’s gay. That he came out. Lives with his boyfriend now, and seems so happy, and doesn’t snap at her that much anymore when they talk, and she can’t help but wonder how he did it. Where he found the courage to do this.

If things were different, maybe they could be friends. Vilde would ask him about it, then, would ask what the proper way to deal with things like this is, because she tried looking on the internet but ended up with nothing, and the magazines don’t write about those things at all, and nobody she knows has ever said a thing.

Isak and Even go, and Vilde doesn’t ask about anything.

But one day, maybe she will.

  
*

  
On a Saturday night, Eva braids Vilde’s hair and lets her borrow her lipstick, the nice pink one, and when Vilde looks in the mirror, just before they go out, she feels pretty. Not beautiful, but pretty enough.

Eva notices, because she weirdly often does, and she wraps her arms around Vilde from the back, places her chin in the crook of Vilde’s neck, and squeezes her in a tight hug. ”You’re gorgeous,” she tells her, lips curled just slightly and eyes gleaming. Her touch burns.

”Thank you,” Vilde says, smiles back because Eva deserves nothing less, because Vilde knows it makes her worry lessen. ”You are, too.”

It’s something.

  
*

  
When the party is over, Vilde finds herself slumped on the couch, hand curled around an empty wine bottle. Eva is pressed against her side, drunk and giggly, and it’s warm and good. Vilde feels okay like this, with the crowd around her dissipating, with Eva Mohn beside her, not going anywhere.

There were no guys trying to kiss Vilde tonight. No guys feeling her up in cold bathrooms or somebody else’s bedrooms. Eva stuck close to her, for once, pulled her out on the floor to dance time after time after time, pressed the wine bottle into her hand and watched her drink it, cheering her on. Why, Vilde has no idea.

It was the best party she’s been to in a really long, long time.

Sana leaves, a short while later, and then Chris, and others, and Noora waves them goodbye as she leaves with William, and when Vilde looks at them together, she feels nothing. It’s a great fucking feeling.

”Hey, Vilde,” Eva says, words slurred together, and Vilde puts the empty bottle away, looks down at the girl pressed into her side. Eva’s eyes are shining. ”Wanna go home?”

And Vilde doesn’t, really, but she can’t exactly say that, she doesn’t think. The party’s almost over. Everybody’s leaving already.

”Can I stay at your place tonight?” she asks instead. When she tries to sit up, the room sways around her a little bit.

Eva’s answering grin is enough of an answer.

  
*

  
Eva’s home is big and empty and quiet. By the time they stumble through the door, they’ve sobered up enough already, and Vilde watches as Eva flicks the lights in the hallway on, then in the living room, then her bedroom, even though it’s probably around 3 AM.

They wash their makeup off and Eva lends Vilde her sweatpants and a t-shirt and then refuses to let Vilde sleep on the couch, so they both end up in Eva’s bed, close. Vilde keeps wondering if this is how friends are supposed to act. If it’s allowed. Because she doesn’t think it is, she thinks there’s a line somewhere there that they’re ignoring now, a rule they must have missed along the way, but she will not say anything if Eva doesn't, either.

Vilde snuggles closer into Eva’s warmth and she never, ever want to move away.

In the morning, they will both be terribly hungover, and they will make breakfast and maybe drink some coffee and for once, Vilde won’t care about wearing makeup or about how her hair looks. Maybe she’ll borrow one of Eva’s sweaters. Maybe she’ll ask to use her perfume on her way out, just to keep the memories closer for a little while.

Right now, they’re laying in the dark together and Vilde can feel Eva’s hair on her own cheek, can hear the rhythm of her breathing, the rustle of the sheets as she moves. Right now, she has this.

”Eva?” she mutters, and Eva hums in response, a sleepy sound. Vilde tastes the words on her tongue before she lets them out. ”Do you ever miss Jonas?”

Eva smiles a little but doesn’t open her eyes. Vilde is watching her closely; wishes she could count the freckles on her skin. ”Not really,” Eva says, and if it’s a lie, it doesn’t sound like it. Then, Eva says, ”I have you, now.”

It sounds like everything she ever says sounds — soft, and real. Vilde doesn’t know what to make of it. There’s blood humming in her veins, suddenly, rushing to her head, quickening her pulse. She thinks — maybe it’s a sign from fate, so long-awaited, because maybe Vilde's finally good enough to get it. Or maybe it’s destiny playing a joke on her. Maybe it’s nothing at all.

Whatever it is, she’ll take it.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm lowkey tempted to write a continuation of this but at the same time i don't want to make a fool of myself, welp
> 
>  
> 
> come talk to me on [tumblr!](http://sanasbakkcush.tumblr.com)


End file.
